


We will all laugh at gilded butterflies

by Nightwang



Series: SladeRobin Week 2020 [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Blackmail, Day 3: Arranged Marriage, Forced Orgasm, Hurt Dick Grayson, M/M, Protective Bruce Wayne, SladeRobin Week 2020, like at all, not historically accurate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27227506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightwang/pseuds/Nightwang
Summary: '“Speak plainly,” Bruce snapped.“I want to marry Richard.”Dick couldn’t help the startled noise that escaped him. Bruce looked as surprised as he felt. Him? He hadn’t even realised that Slade knew his name, let alone wanted tomarryhim.'For the SladeRobin Week prompt Arrange Marriage.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Series: SladeRobin Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985452
Comments: 10
Kudos: 134
Collections: SladeRobin Week 2020





	We will all laugh at gilded butterflies

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty graphic so mind the tags!
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

Slade Wilson cut an imposing figure across the table from them, his orange and black armour gleaming darkly in the low candlelight. Bruce’s expression was blank, but Dick could see the tension in his shoulders, the unease in the tightness around his eyes.

They’d been expecting Slade, but not quite like this. Slade’s army was far larger than their own and had been threatening their borders for a while. Dick had known that the situation was dire. Bruce hadn’t hidden anything from them, had in fact prepared them for the possibility that war was coming, and what that would mean for Gotham.

So when Slade Wilson had requested a meeting, Bruce had no option but to accept.

“What do you want Wilson?” Bruce asked, laying his hands flat against the table between them.

“So hostile,” Slade purred, “when I’ve come to arrange a treaty.”

Dick couldn’t help glancing over at his siblings then. Whatever Slade wanted it wouldn’t be good. Slade was no stranger to war. In fact he seemed to relish in it, and to pass up the opportunity to crush Gotham, the price would be high.

“I’m willing to negotiate,” Bruce said after a long moment. After all, what choice did they have? It was more like a ransom demand than a treaty.

“We could cement an alliance by joining our two nations.”

Bruce stiffened, his nostrils flaring. _Joining_ the two nations sounded like a nice way to say that Gotham would be absorbed into Slade’s rapidly expanding empire, and that Bruce would become simply a figurehead with no real power. Just there to appease their citizens.

“Join our nations,” Bruce said blandly.

“I was thinking perhaps an arranged marriage.”

That brought Bruce up short. It hadn’t been what they were expecting at all. An arranged marriage? What benefit could that possibly bring to Slade? He had three children, if Dick remembered correctly, two boys and a girl. Dick looked over at his own siblings. Jason was scowling, his arms crossed, fury radiating from him. Tim and Cass were carefully blank. Dick couldn’t bring himself to look at Damian.

“I suppose we could negotiate a marriage between our children,” Bruce said diplomatically, reluctance clear on his face.

As members of a royal family, they’d always known that their marriages would be political ones. Dick was under no illusion that his partner would be entirely his choice, but Bruce had always made it clear that they would not be forced into anything. They would have options, they could say no.

Slade laughed loudly. “I think you misunderstand me. It is not my children I wish to marry, it’s myself.”

Dick’s stomach bottomed out in horror. Marry Slade? The man was older than Bruce, and had a reputation as a violent, bloodthirsty bully. Bruce had only one daughter and like hell she was going to marry this monster. Jason stepped in front of Cass protectively, his lips curling back in a snarl and Bruce didn’t even reprimand him, his own mouth twisted unhappily.

“You wish to wed my daughter?”

“Not quite,” he smiled slowly. “I have children already, and have no desire for more heirs to fight over the throne. Besides, if I’m honest my tastes lay elsewhere.”

“Speak plainly,” Bruce snapped.

“I want to marry Richard.”

Dick couldn’t help the startled noise that escaped him. Bruce looked as surprised as he felt. Him? He hadn’t even realised that Slade knew his name, let alone wanted to _marry_ him.

“No,” Bruce said automatically, looking taken aback. “You can’t marry the crown prince.”

“Why not? There’ll be no children for you to worry about and it’s not like he’s your only child.”

“If you wish to discuss a political marriage between our _children_ then we can maybe come to some arrangement. But I will not be forcing any of them to marry a man older than their own father.”

“How modern of you,” Slade rolled his eye, the amusement on his face sliding slowly into annoyance. “I’ll make this easy. Either Richard marries me or I squash your pathetic little country beneath my boot. You have until tomorrow to decide.”

He didn’t bother waiting for a reply, simply snapped his fingers at his guards and strode out of the room. Bruce signalled their own guards to leave the room as well. It was like he was carved from stone, face carefully blank, muscles rigid. As soon as the heavy wooden doors had closed - locking with a clunk that echoed through the room - everyone began talking at once. Everyone except Bruce, whose stony expression had sagged into something sad and resigned, like he knew exactly what Dick was thinking.

“I’ll do it,” Dick said. The words were quiet, but they cut through the chatter like he’d screamed them.

“The fuck you will!” Jason snapped immediately.

“You can’t really be considering this?” Tim followed up. “Slade’s a monster!”

Acid churned in Dick’s gut, burning up through his lungs. This would be so much easier if they didn’t fight him. They all knew that it was inevitable, Dick could see it in the desperation on their faces, the sorrow in their eyes. Slade wasn’t exaggerating when he said he would squash them, and Dick wasn’t going to be the reason he followed through on the threat.

“Are you sure?” Bruce asked, just as quietly as Dick had been.

 _No_. He wanted to say. Of course he wasn’t sure. They’d all heard the horror stories, the brutality with which Slade crushed his opponents, the cruelty he showed to those beneath him. Dick was under no illusions that once they were married Slade would show him any tenderness. But he didn’t have a choice.

“Yes,” he stood straight and met Bruce’s heavy gaze. He was infinitely glad that his voice didn’t tremble, this would be hard enough without letting on just how frightened he really was.

“Father, you cannot be thinking of letting Richard marry that man!” Damian’s voice was shrill, echoing against the stone walls. Dick shut his eyes as if that would block out the sounds of his little brother’s despair.

“Dick’s old enough to make his own decisions,” Bruce said, pained.

“You can’t,” Damian croaked. He sounded _devastated_ , and Dick almost crumbled.

A warm hand settled on his shoulder. Dick opened his eyes in surprise, and Cass was in front of him, a gentle smile on her face. She caught his cheeks between her palms and drew him in to press their foreheads together.

“Brother,” she whispered, and there were a thousand meanings in that one word. Shamefully, Dick felt the wet heat of tears well beneath his closed lids. No matter what, he would always be grateful that it wasn’t Cass, or any of his brothers, that Slade had chosen. It was better this way.

“We have until tomorrow,” Bruce said gruffly. “In case you change your mind.”

He wouldn’t, but he appreciated the sentiment. Cass drew back, sliding a thumb gently under Dick’s eye. He didn’t think any tears had fallen but he couldn’t be sure. Dick stepped away, just in time to catch Tim as he threw his arms around him. Dick brought his hand up to press Tim’s face in against him.

“It’s alright Timbo,” Dick said softly.

“No it’s not,” Tim huffed, squeezing tight before letting him go. Dick released him reluctantly. He didn’t know how long he had before he couldn’t hold any of them again.

“I suppose not,” he said weakly.

Bruce’s warm hand landed on the back of his neck, and then he was being tugged into a broad chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against his hair.

“It’s not your fault,” Dick said, voice strangled.

Bruce didn’t say anything else, but he stepped back, sliding his hand up to cup his cheek gently. His expression was impossibly soft. Dick’s chest ached at the sight, and he couldn’t help leaning into the warmth of his palm.

“This is bullshit!” Jason snapped, storming past them and knocking roughly on the door. It swung open beneath his fist and he slipped out without looking at them.

Dick sighed, Bruce’s hand falling to clasp his shoulder. “Why don’t you get some rest?” Bruce suggested, pushing him towards the door that Jason had just disappeared through. Dick wanted to resist. If he was to be married off, he wanted to spend as much time with his family as he could. Bruce must have seen something on his face because his grip tightened minutely.

“There’s plenty of time still. It’s been a long day, go to bed.”

Dick relented easily. Exhaustion settled heavy in his bones, his emotions swirling like a storm in his chest. He let Bruce guide him out and through the halls to his room, depositing him gently on the bed. Bruce settled the blanket over him, tucking him in, even though he was still dressed in his day clothes. Bruce brushed the hair back from his forehead softly.

“Goodnight chum.”

In the dark of the room, silence pressing in against him, Dick’s thoughts clamoured loudly for attention. He couldn’t believe that he was really going to marry Slade Wilson. He wasn’t opposed to marrying a man, in fact he’d often found himself admiring the honed muscles of soldiers, or the fine beauty of visiting princes. But he’d always thought that he would marry a woman, simply because he was heir to the throne. Even if he’d fantasised about it occasionally, he’d never imagined that it would be a man older than his own father.

Fear curdled in his gut. What exactly did this mean for him anyway? He was the next in line to the throne after all, would he still be after this? The thought of Slade having any kind of power over Gotham left a sour taste in his mouth. Maybe they would just skip over him? Could they do that? Dick would be happy to relinquish the role - he had always been reluctant to take on the responsibilities of being King anyway. The council would probably be happy about it as well. They hated the fact that Bruce was so adamant about keeping his adopted children in the line of succession. Would Jason take over? Or would it fall to Damian, as the only blood child. Privately, Dick thought that Tim would probably make the best King. He was the most level-headed, the most inclined to diplomacy.

At least he didn’t have to worry about any heirs, he supposed. It was bitter sweet, he wouldn’t be forced to bring children into a loveless marriage with an asshole for a father, but then he wouldn’t be able to have children at all. Dick had always wanted a family, and now that choice was being taken from him.

He let out a little sob, curling up into a ball and pulling the sheets up over his head. He hadn’t cried this whole time, hadn’t let himself show any weakness in front of his siblings. But now, alone in his room, he could let the tears fall.

*

Dick didn’t change his mind, even though he was tempted. Bruce gave him plenty of opportunities, probing gently to make sure that Dick was certain, and he could feel his resolve crumbling every time. Tim and Damian spent the entire day stuck to his side like glue, even though Damian was obviously still upset with him. Jason was avoiding him. It hurt, but he understood why, he couldn’t hold it against him.

Slade’s messenger appeared as the sun was just dipping beneath the horizon. Dick felt unreasonably nervous. It wasn’t even Slade himself, and yet Dick’s heart was racing, blood roaring in his ears. Bruce stood in front of them, his back ramrod straight.

“You can tell Wilson that we’ve accepted his proposal.”

The messenger’s lip curled at the lack of a title, but he nodded, eyes sharp as they focused on Bruce. “Very good, your highness, please have everything prepared for two days time.”

“Two days?!” Bruce bit out, incredulous. Dick’s head swam, black creeping in at the edges of his vision. Two days was not enough time. It was not enough time to prepare for a wedding, especially not a royal wedding, and it certainly wasn’t enough time for Dick to prepare himself for this marriage.

“Yes, King Slade would like proceedings to be as fast as possible. Two days should be plenty of time.”

It wasn’t, and Slade almost definitely knew that, but Bruce couldn’t argue with him. He turned his back on the other man sharply, jaw clenched in fury, but his expression softened as his gaze fell on Dick. The messenger took the dismissal for what it was, leaving without another word.

“Two days,” Dick murmured, stunned. Bruce shut his eyes, his mouth pressing into a thin line, before he stepped forwards and gripped Dick by the shoulders.

“I know it’s not ideal,” Bruce started. Dick snorted. Not ideal? He had two days left of freedom, and all of that time would be spent preparing for this wedding. Bruce’s grip tightened.

“Don’t worry about it Bruce,” Dick interrupted before he could say anything else. “We need to start getting everything together if we’re going to be ready on time.”

He shrugged Bruce’s hands off him. He let him go, but his mouth turned down unhappily and he rubbed a hand across his eyes with a sigh. “You’re right. You don’t have to help if you don’t want to.”

“Of course I will, we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

Bruce didn’t argue, just nodded sharply, his brows furrowing. “We should let the others know.”

Dick grimaced. He didn’t want to tell them, didn’t want to see their expressions when they found out how little time they really had. But they had a right to know. And anyway, they would need their help with this wedding.

Bruce hadn’t let the others come with them, and so they’d congregated back in Dick’s bedroom. His heart sunk with every step closer, already dreading the reactions, but Bruce just offered him a soft smile as they reached the door, pushing it open and leading the way inside. Damian stood up immediately, wide eyes fixed on Bruce.

“Well?” he snapped.

Bruce took a deep breath. “He wants the wedding in two days.”

The room exploded with noise, all his siblings clamoring over each other. Bruce raised a hand to hush them, his face strained.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but we need all hands on deck if we’re going to be ready on time.”

“Are you joking?” Jason asked, incredulous. “You really expect us to help with this?”

“Yes,” Dick said before Bruce could reply. “It’s going to reflect badly on us if we mess this up.”

Jason sneered, expression furious. Cass touched his elbow gently and he let out an explosive breath, deflating. “I’m sorry Dick, this is just…”

“It’s okay Jay, I know it sucks.”

“Yeah, sucks,” Tim said, choked. “It sucks that you’re going to be sold off to some _rapist_ so we don’t all get murdered.”

DIck’s breath caught in his throat. “He’s not a…” he couldn’t even say the word, “he’s an asshole sure but he’s not…”

“He’s literally forcing you into a marriage to save your country. You think he’s not going to make you have sex with him? How is that not a rapist?” Tim snapped.

“Okay, enough,” Bruce said. “Arguing isn’t going to change anything. We have to make the most of a bad situation here, I’m expecting you all to pull your weight and help out.”

With that he turned and left. Dick shot one last look at his siblings, and then left as well.

*

Despite their initial reluctance, all of his siblings pitched in to help, and they managed to scrape together a passable event just in time. Slade arrived early on the day of the wedding, dressed regally in a royal blue that matched his coat of arms, and Dick could admit that he looked handsome.

Bruce had sequestered Dick away in his room before Slade could see him, and helped him dress. He’d designed a beautiful white tunic, embroidered with fine golden patterns that matched the delicate crown he wore.

“He requested you wear these,” Bruce said, scowling. He opened a small box to reveal two thick golden bands. Dick picked them up hesitantly, putting them on with a grimace. They felt heavy and tight on his wrists, weighing him down and they reminded him almost of manacles. He swallowed thickly. He shouldn’t be thinking like that.

“How do I look?” he croaked, giving Bruce a twirl and tight smile.

“Very handsome,” Bruce said, reaching out to tug at the hem of his tunic. “Just like a prince should.”

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, Dick drinking in the sight of his father one last time as a free man. Bruce cupped his face gently, stroking a thumb across his cheekbone.

“Are you sure about this?” Bruce asked again. Dick huffed a laugh, it was too late now, there was no way they could back out of it.

“I’m sure Bruce, it’ll be fine,” he didn’t sound convincing to his own ears, but Bruce didn’t call him out on it, just pulled him into a tight embrace. Dick desperately didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to walk out those doors and face the reality of his situation.

“You ready chum?”

 _No_. He was never going to be ready, but that wasn’t going to stop it from happening. He had to just suck it up and get this over with. “Yeah, B, let’s do this.”

Bruce held his arm out and Dick tucked his own through it. Slade had made it clear that Dick was going to be the ‘bride’ in the ceremony. Dick grit his teeth at the thought, he wasn’t a woman and the fact that Slade wanted him to act this way was degrading.

He was led out towards the main hall where the ceremony was being held. Butterflies fluttered to life in his stomach, his heart racing the closer they got to the doors. Everyone was going to be there, to see him give his life away to the bastard that was threatening war against them.

A soft squeeze of his arm was all the warning he got before the doors swung open, a sea of faces turning to watch as he stepped through and made his way down the aisle. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor in front of him, scared of recognising any of the faces, or seeing the pity in their eyes.

As they neared the end of the aisle, Bruce’s grip became almost painfully tight. Dick looked up and locked eyes with Slade, caught by the bright, cold gaze. Slade smiled, satisfaction sharpening his features as he broke eye contact to look Dick up and down. The room seemed to fade away from him, static filling his ears as Bruce passed his hand over to Slade with a scowl. His grip was firm and unyielding, calluses rough against Dick’s fingers. Dick’s own hands weren’t exactly soft. He was a prince afterall, and he was trained to fight, to defend himself and his country. Still, he had never actually seen battle. These hands, he knew, had spilled blood.

Slade leaned in, voice low so that only Dick could hear it. “You make a beautiful sight Richard, a vision in gold.”

Dick shuddered. The bracelets on his wrists felt almost unbearably heavy. Stood next to Slade, the difference in their stature was obvious. Dick was no slouch, he excelled in his training, was unmatched at duel wielding blades, could bring down a man twice his size. And yet next to Slade, he felt small and weak. He was a pretty, useless thing, weighed down by the gold at his wrists.

The actual ceremony passed in a haze. He couldn’t concentrate on the words, repeating his vows with numb lips. Slade turned him gently, leaning in, and Dick almost flinched back. Then Slade’s lips were on his, warm and slightly chapped. Dick froze and Slade licked across the seam of his mouth before pulling away to raucous applause.

His eyes sought out Bruce instinctively. He was stood to the side, clapping, but his face was drawn and unsmiling. A hand gripped Dick’s bicep, painfully tight, and spurred him on down the aisle.

“Smile Richard, or people may start to think you aren’t happy with this arrangement.”

Dick forced a smile onto his face, his eyes scanning the crowd. His siblings were sat near the front, huddled together. Jason and Damian had twin scowls on their faces, arms crossed stubbornly. Cass beside them was smiling sadly, cheeks wet with tears.

Then they were past the crowds and into the entrance hall. Bruce had ordered the servants to set up a grand feast, and Slade led Dick towards the head of the table, settling him into a chair to the right of him. The guests followed them out, talking loudly amongst themselves as the band began to play.

Slade took his hand, lacing their fingers together. Dick stared at their joined hands blankly for a long moment, gaze catching on the new golden shimmer on his ring finger. It was...tastefully understated. A simple gold band. And yet the sight of it made Dick’s stomach churn uncomfortably.

Bruce sat stiffly on the other side of Slade, not looking at them. Slade leant back in his chair with a smirk, lifting their joined hands to his mouth. “You look unhappy Wayne.”

“Not at all,” Bruce said through gritted teeth. Slade laughed but he let go of Dick’s hand to start eating. A servant appeared at Dick’s shoulder with a jug of wine, pouring a generous splash into Dick’s goblet. Dick wasn’t much of a drinker usually - he disliked feeling out of control - now though, he could do with getting drunk.

The wine was bitter, but Dick downed it all anyway, gesturing to another servant to refill his cup. As he brought it to his lips a second time, a hand clamped onto his forearm, lowering it back to the table.

“Take it easy sweetheart, it wouldn’t do for you to be drunk on our first night as newlyweds,” Slade said, squeezing harshly. Dick let go of the goblet, grinding his teeth together as nausea curled in his gut. On the other side of Slade, Bruce made a small, disgusted noise and heat flooded Dick’s cheeks at the reminder that his _dad_ was listening to this.

He picked at his food as the night went on, but he didn’t taste any of it. It was a shame because Bruce had made sure to include some of Dick’s favourite dishes, but everything just tasted like cardboard in his mouth. Bruce kept shooting him worried looks from around Slade’s bulk, but Dick was purposefully ignoring him. He didn’t want Bruce to say anything where Slade could hear him. He was enjoying this, Dick knew, enjoying the fact that he had something he could lord over the other King, and Dick _hated_ that he was being used to hurt Bruce.

There was a steady stream of well-wishers and simpering nobles that approached the head table during the night. Dick smiled and acted polite, and beside him Slade seemed annoyed by the constant attention, waving people away and sighing loudly when they didn’t get the hint. Obviously in his own kingdom, he wasn’t known for his people skills.

Eventually Slade stood, a sharp grin on his face, and raised his goblet. “Well this has been wonderful. I’d like to thank everyone for attending and, of course, King Bruce for agreeing to what I’m sure will be a prosperous marriage,” he dropped a heavy hand to clasp Bruce on the shoulder, in a show of camaraderie. Bruce’s answering smile was bland, his hands clenched into fists where they rested on his lap.

“Now, if you’ll all excuse us, my new husband and I have to… _consummate_ the marriage.” Slade laughed loudly as the crowd went quiet. Dick’s mouth fell open, the tips of his ears heating in embarrassment. He couldn’t help glancing over at Bruce, who was glaring at Slade, his face red.

Slade grabbed Dick by the arm and levered him to his feet. Bruce stood as well, looking like he wanted to step in between them, but Slade was already dragging Dick away from the table towards the door. They passed his sibling’s table on the way, and Dick’s heart clenched at the look on his little brothers’ faces. Tim was the closest and as he reached out Dick stretched to meet him, their fingers brushing briefly.

Then they were outside in the quiet of the hall. Dick yanked his arm down hard enough to break Slade’s hold on him, side stepping away quickly. “You don’t have to drag me everywhere,” he snapped.

Slade gave him an unimpressed look. “Well lead the way then.”

Dick hesitated. He knew what Slade wanted, he had made that very clear at the feast after all. Slade probably expected him to take him to his room, but Dick didn’t want to taint his childhood room with this. He didn’t want Slade in his space. There were several empty guest rooms in the palace. Dick would take them to one of those.

He led the way there in silence, pushing the door open and stepping inside, Slade crowding in behind him. “This isn’t your room.”

“No,” Dick agreed quietly. “I thought this would be better.”

Slade grunted, shutting the door behind himself with a heavy click. Dick lit the candles. His hands were shaking as he held the match up to the wicks. He let the tiny flame burn down the wood until the heat of it licked at his fingers, and then blew it out, watching the smoke curl into the air and dissipate.

Arms circled his waist, tugging him back against a broad chest. Dick squeezed his eyes shut, heart racing as Slade pressed his lips against Dick’s neck. He was trembling, fear and nausea mixing horribly in his stomach. It wasn’t exactly his first time doing anything like this - plenty of people wanted to get in bed with the Prince after all - but he’d always refrained from going too far, limiting it to exploratory fumbles and heated kisses. He’d been saving the main event for his wedding night. All the times Dick had imagined how this night would go, it had never been like this.

Teeth scraped across his nape, a warm hand pushing up under his tunic to stroke across his stomach. Dick couldn’t help the shudder, his skin prickling where Slade was touching him.

“Take your clothes off,” Slade said, husky, voice thick with lust.

Dick gripped the collar of his tunic, holding it closed instinctively, as Slade stepped back. He could do this. It was fine. It was just sex right? All he had to do was lay back and think of Gotham, and then his family would be safe. He just had to get past this night, and then every night for the rest of his life.

His eyes felt uncomfortably hot, his throat swollen, but he refused to cry. Not in front of this man. He stripped his clothes off efficiently - trying not to make a show of it - until he was completely bare, exposed and shivering. He went to take the gold bands off of his wrists, but Slade grabbed his forearm and twisted him round, tugging him up against his chest.

“Leave them on.”

Slade had taken the opportunity to disrobe as well, and as he pressed closer, the hard heat of his arousal brushed against Dick’s stomach. He couldn’t help the small, disgusted noise he made as it smeared wetly along his skin.

The grip on his arm tightened, and then he was being walked backwards towards the bed, awkwardly trying to avoid getting stepped on. The back of his knees hit the mattress and he would have fallen backwards if it wasn’t for the tight grip on his arm. Instead he was leaned back, his legs crushed against the bed, and his upper body tilted precariously.

He felt off balance and overwhelmed, the sticky heat between them contrasting horribly with the chill of the room. Slade kissed him, bending him even further back, slipping his other arm around his waist and grinding them together.

Dick felt kind of like he was being swallowed whole, the wet meat of Slade’s tongue choking him. He tried to bring his foot up to rest on the bed, tried to get some balance so he felt a little more in control, and Slade grabbed his thigh, tugging his leg up and hoisting him onto the mattress.

The sheets were soft beneath Dick’s back and cool against his overheated skin. Slade loomed over him, a predator about to strike the final blow, and Dick had never felt so exposed. So vulnerable.

He couldn’t help the way his knees drew together in a pathetic attempt to hide himself. And to keep Slade from getting in close. Rough hands gripped his knees and forced his legs apart, Slade using his weight to force them out in an uncomfortable stretch. Slade crowded in, his hips settling against Dick’s and the hard line of his cock pressed nauseatingly into the crease of Dick’s groin.

Slade bent over him, lips brushing over the sensitive skin of his neck, before sucking hard enough to hurt. Dick squirmed, his hands coming up to curl into useless fists against Slade’s chest. His instincts were telling him to fight back, to hit and twist and break the pin. But he couldn’t do that. This was his fate now, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Slade thrust down with a soft moan, crushing the breath from Dick’s lungs. He trailed sharp, biting kisses across Dick’s throat and over his collarbone and Dick shivered beneath his bulk. He had the sudden, horrible fear that Slade was going to just tear into the exposed skin of his throat and kill him.

Instead Slade shoved two thick fingers into his mouth. Dick’s teeth scraped across his knuckles, his tongue rising instinctively to push the digits out. They thrust down harshly, pressing in against the back of his throat and he gagged around them.

“That’s it,” Slade murmured, “get them nice and wet.”

Dick shuddered, gagging some more, and if Slade didn’t let up he was going to vomit. After a long moment, he pulled them back to trace wet swipes across his lips. Dick panted desperately, sharp, heaving breaths as he struggled to get himself under control.

Slade trailed wet fingers down his chest, flicking gently over a nipple, and then between his legs to press against Dick’s entrance. Dick jerked, his legs squeezing in against Slade’s hips, panic flaring in his chest. Slade pressed his fingers inside, and the slick of Dick’s saliva wasn’t enough to stop the sharp burn of friction.

“Wait-“ Dick gasped, clawing his fingers into Slade’s shoulders.

“Relax,” Slade purred, thrusting his fingers roughly and then spreading them. It hurt, a sick, violating pain that sparked up Dick’s spine. How could he possibly relax? He hadn’t even stuck his cock in yet and it already felt like he was going to be torn apart.

“Please- can we just-“

Slade bit down on his shoulder, thrusting a third finger in roughly. Dick couldn’t stop the yelp of pain, or the shameful sting of tears that threatened.

“You’re going to have to get used to this sweetheart,” Slade said, and Dick shuddered at the reminder. That this wasn’t a one time thing. That he would have to suffer this unwanted touch over and over again.

“Please,” he whispered, but either Slade didn’t hear it or just didn’t care.

Slade pulled his fingers out, and Dick only had a brief moment of relief before Slade was pushing his knees up by his ears, almost folding him in half. He bore down against him, trapping him in position.

Blood roared in his ears, his pulse hammering at his throat, and everything seemed to happen in slow motion and yet all at once. Slade tightened his hold until his fingers must have been leaving bruises on his thighs, and then his cock was pressing into him, huge and hot and like a battering ram against his insides.

Dick gasped, trying to squirm away, but Slade’s hold was like iron, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he pushed onwards. His fingers were like claws on Slade’s shoulders. It must have hurt but Slade didn’t even seem to notice, his lid half closed in pleasure, the tendons on his neck standing out as he grit his teeth and thrust in sharply.

Dick cried out, agony sawing through his body, sharp and insistent. His head was swimming, his limbs tingling. It felt almost like his body didn’t belong to him, like this was happening to someone else entirely, because it couldn’t be happening to him.

Then another thrust had pain lighting up along his nerves. A thick groan painted the air between them, sinking into his skin like poison.

“I knew you’d be tight,” Slade hissed. Dick wanted to point out that he was probably tight because Slade hadn’t bothered to prep him properly, because he was unaroused and scared and hating every minute of this. He wanted to tell Slade to go fuck himself. Instead all he managed were desperate, pained gasps as Slade carved into him.

Slade gripped his hips hard, tilting his pelvis up, and then began thrusting in earnest. Dick wasn’t ready. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready. He scratched deep furrows across Slade’s shoulders, biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood.

Slade bent over so that their chests were pressed together, covering his mouth with his own. Their breaths mingled, teeth smashing together painfully, and Slade moaned like it was sexy. Dick wished that he would keep this as impersonal as possible, that it wasn’t so intimate, so he could pretend that this was a random, uncomfortable encounter that come morning he could just sweep under the rug, and not his new husband, fucking him with no care whatsoever.

Was this what it was going to be like every time? He’d known that Slade would be a selfish lover, only in it for his own pleasure, and yet he hadn’t thought about how much it would _hurt_. Would it be this bad every time? Or would he eventually get used to it? He wasn’t sure which idea was worse.

Slade leaned back on his knees so he could thrust more freely. The new angle meant that Slade rubbed up against something inside of him that sparked pleasure instead of pain. It wasn’t quite enough to get him hard, but it still made him gasp, his eyes widening, and he knew Slade had noticed by the smirk on his face.

“Enjoying yourself?” Slade huffed out, amusement clear even over the thick, breathless lust.

“No,” Dick gasped, a denial. Slade reached between them to palm at his cock, gentling his thrusts and Dick mewled, his arms flying out to tear at the sheets. No, no, no. He couldn’t enjoy this, this degradation, this violation of his body.

And yet his cock hardened beneath Slade’s touch, straining up against his palm as though it sought his touch.

Slade laughed, squeezing harshly in punishment for a moment before he trapped it against Dick’s stomach, letting his palm slide across it with every thrust.

It seemed endless, this cloying pleasure mixing with the ache in his guts. Slade was a machine, thrusting deep over and over, the only sign of exertion the sweat beading across his brow. Dick clenched down, desperate to end this, and Slade rumbled low in his chest, his thrust hitching and stuttering.

“Good boy,” Slade moaned, sending shivers of disgust across Dick’s skin. He didn’t want Slade’s praise, didn’t want to be good for him.

Dick drifted, his body jolted across the sheets in time with Slade’s thrusts. He was whispering praise and degradation in equal measures, smearing the words across Dick’s skin. He tuned them out, focusing instead on the pounding of his pulse, the sharp huff huff of his own breath being shoved out of him.

Slade’s grip on his cock tightened, slick with sweat and precome. He twisted his wrist and pleasure sparked down Dick’s spine.

“Come on baby,” Slade murmured into his ear. “Don’t you want to be good for me?”

No. No he didn’t want to be good for Slade, but that didn’t stop the hand around his cock from _feeling_ good. Pleasure coiled like a rope in his gut, his hips rising without his say so to thrust up against Slade’s grip.

Slade chuckled, running a thumb across the slit and then Dick was coming. It took him completely by surprise, sudden and hollow and disgusting. He let out a sob, limbs jerking and Slade pressed in against him with a moan. He brought his sticky hand up, slipping his fingers into Dick’s mouth. It was salty and wet, made all the worse by the breathy sigh of pleasure Slade let out, his hips stuttering against Dick’s ass. He dropped his hands to Dick’s hips, pulling him against his pelvis for a rough thrust, and another, and another, and then Slade was shuddering against him with a low moan.

Slade slumped against him, panting wetly against his throat. Dick’s cheeks were damp, his throat tight, and his whole body throbbed in time with his heartbeat. After a long moment Slade sat back, pulling out of him with a horrible squelching noise.

“Well, I certainly enjoyed myself,” Slade said, wiping himself with a blanket and then flopping down beside Dick. His arm fell across Dick’s hips, heavy, pinning him.

“Glad one of us did,” Dick croaked. His voice sounded terrible, scratchy and yet at the same time thick with congestion. He turned away from Slade, curling his knees up and wincing as his ass throbbed. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t go through with this again even once, let alone as many times as Slade wanted for the rest of his life. If he went to Bruce now and told him, Bruce would help him. He would fight. For Dick.

The thought was abruptly sobering. He hadn’t suffered through this so he could fail at the last hurdle. If he gave up now, his family, his country, would suffer instead, and everything he’d just done would be for nothing.

Slade sat up beside him, stretching, and then the bed shifted as Slade stood up, padding into the bathroom. A scant minute later, a warm, wet flannel slapped onto his ribs, startling him,

“Get cleaned up, there’s a carriage waiting.”

Dick sat up immediately, wincing as the movement sent pain singing through his nerves. “A carriage- what-“

They couldn’t be leaving now. He hadn’t had time to say goodbye, had been hoping that they would stay here for the night and Dick could pull the shattered pieces of himself back together in time for a farewell breakfast.

Slade had turned away to dress. “I’d rather not spend any more time in this pathetic country than I have to.”

Something hot and angry swelled in Dick’s chest, clogging his throat. “Are you serious?”

Slade straightened, shooting Dick an unreadable look over his shoulder. “If you want to say goodbye you’d better hurry up.” And then he was striding towards the door.

Dick wiped himself over quickly, focusing mainly on the area between his legs. He was bleeding, crimson smears staining the rough material of the cloth and Dick had to swallow down the sudden nausea that pressed insistently at the base of his throat.

Slade had cracked the door and was talking quietly to someone on the other side. Guards probably. Dick prayed that they hadn’t been there the whole time, or that if they had, they hadn’t been able to hear anything.

His body ached as he bent to pull his clothes on. It was both a relief to no longer be naked, and also weirdly anticlimactic, like he’d been flayed alive and then his skin had been hastily put back on.

Slade turned, his gaze scraping across Dick’s body like a physical touch. His lip curled, displeasure clear on his face, but he didn’t say anything, just gestured Dick closer. He went, like a dog called to his master, wincing as every step sent pain shooting up his spine. Slade reached out to stroke his thumb over his throat, pressing in against sensitive spots. Dick shuddered, grabbing Slade’s wrist, and he let him, pulling back to smooth his palm over Dick’s tunic.

“Not exactly a princely figure right now, hmm.”

Dick didn’t know what he looked like, but he imagined it was pretty bad. He tugged at the hem of his tunic, feeling small and weak and _pathetic_. Slade tsked and took his hand, leading him out of the room. Dick kept his gaze on the floor, embarrassment heating his face. He didn’t want to see the faces of the guards, didn’t want to know if they’d heard. It was bad enough that everyone knew what had happened.

As they neared the hall, the sounds of the party leaked out around them. It was still going strong, the guests seemingly unbothered that both of the grooms were no longer present. Slade reached out to open the door, and horror solidified like a stone in Dick’s stomach.

“Wait,” Dick gasped, tugging back against Slade’s hold. “We’re not- not going in there are we?”

Slade gave him a bemused look. “What are you talking about? I thought you would want to see your family one last time.”

 _Of course_ he wanted to see them. But not like this, not in front of everyone, not after he’d just been… he couldn’t even think the word. Slade rolled his eye, pushing the door open before Dick had the chance to protest further. It was like a wall of noise, slamming into Dick’s chest. His head swirled, overwhelmed by how _much_ it was. It seemed strange, that just minutes ago Dick had been through one of the worst experiences of his life, and all these people had been here. Partying.

Slade dragged him in, drawing attention immediately. A cheer started up, laughter and clapping, and Dick felt sick as he realised just what exactly they were celebrating. Slade grinned, sharp and feral, ushering Dick ahead of him towards the head table. Dick’s gaze sought out Bruce immediately, still sat where they had left him. His face was pale, mouth a thin line, body rigid. He wasn’t even pretending to look happy.

The walk to the table seemed endless, paraded in front of everyone like some prize. By the time he reached Bruce, he was sweating, his hands trembling and Slade’s presence at his back had shivers racing down his spine.

“We’ll be taking our leave now,” Slade said, loud enough to be heard over the swell of the crowd. Bruce looked up briefly to lock gazes with Slade, his expression clouding over into something dangerous, the promise of violence simmering just beneath the surface.

“You’re leaving already?” Bruce grit out.

“I have business to attend to back in my own kingdom. Thank you for the hospitality, but I see no reason to extend my stay further.”

Dick reached out towards Bruce without meaning to, then aborted the gesture before he could call attention to himself. He wasn’t a child, begging for his father’s comfort. He was a prince, an adult, married. Still, Bruce obviously caught the movement, because he looked back at Dick, taking in his appearance. His jaw tightened, nostrils flaring as his gaze caught on the open collar of his tunic and what Dick assumed were the bruises littering his throat.

Bruce stood abruptly, knuckles white as he pressed his fists into the table. “Well then, we should say our goodbyes,” he looked meaningfully at Slade, “in private.”

“By all means.”

Bruce rounded the table and Dick barely stopped himself from stepping towards him and wrapping his arms around him. He had to stay composed, especially here, in front of everyone. Bruce took his arm gently, guiding him out of the hall and into a small room just to the side. It was only after the door had shut behind them that Dick realised his siblings had followed them in.

“Dick,” Bruce said, his voice breaking over his name. He couldn’t help himself then. He threw himself forwards, colliding with Bruce. Bruce staggered back a step, but his arms came up to crush Dick to him, a wounded noise escaping his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Dick sobbed, and now the tears were coming, thick and fast and unstoppable.

“What are you sorry for?”

Dick shrugged, feeling small and stupid in Bruce’s arms. “For being weak.”

“Nobody thinks that Dick,” Bruce pulled back just enough to cup a hand under Dick’s jaw and tilt his face up. “I think you’ve been incredibly strong.”

“You don’t have to go through with this,” Jason piped up from behind him, voice thick. “We can say that we’ve changed our minds, that we want the marriage annulled.”

Dick laughed wetly. “It’s a bit late for that Jay. And anyway, it wouldn’t change anything. Slade would _crush_ us.”

A small body crashed into him from behind, arms coming up to wrap around his waist. “I don’t want you to go,” Damian whispered, and Dick’s heart broke all over again. He couldn’t believe that this was it. That this was the last time he’d be here, with his family and not with Slade.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Jason’s right,” Bruce said after a moment. “If you’ve changed your mind we won’t hold it against you. We’ll support you no matter what.”

Dick pulled away, gently disentangling from Damian, so that he could face all of them. “Thank you, but I haven’t changed my mind. I’m doing this.”

Tim stepped forwards then, his face tight as he reached out to tug on the collar of his tunic. “If that’s what you want, then we can’t stop you.”

“I’ll visit,” Dick huffed, strained. He hoped that he would be able to visit. Slade wouldn’t stop him from seeing his family, surely? He’d let them say goodbye after all.

“You’d better,” Tim croaked before pulling Dick into another hug.

Dick took his time hugging them all, savouring the feel of his family in his arms. Then he took a deep breath, scrubbing a hand over his wet cheeks, and trying to pull himself back together in time to face Slade.

As he went to open the door, Bruce stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “We love you, Dick.”

Dick was surprised. It wasn’t that he didn’t know Bruce loved him, or that Bruce was uncaring or unaffectionate, but those words were rarely said. Bruce was a man of action, and whilst Dick had never doubted his feelings, it was nice to hear it. Warmth spread through his chest, a tiny kernel of hope to take with him.

Slade was waiting outside, looking bored. As soon as Dick stepped out into the entryway, Slade was gesturing him forwards impatiently, turning to step out into the chill of the Gotham evening.

“Wait-” Dick started. “What about my stuff?”

He had packed a few of his things before the wedding. It wasn’t much, but it was all the important things that Dick didn’t want to leave behind.

“What about it?” Slade grunted. “Everything you need will be provided for you.”

No, that wasn’t right. He should be able to take his things with him. He didn’t want to be alone, stranded in a foreign country, with nothing of his own, nothing to remind himself of his home.

Slade’s eye narrowed as Dick remained standing where he was. Behind Dick, Bruce had stepped forwards. “I’ll send a servant to fetch your things Dick.”

“No need,” Slade growled. “We’ve already been delayed.”

“It won’t take any time at all.”

Slade’s lip curled, his sharp gaze falling to Dick’s face. “Richard. We’re leaving.”

Dick looked back at Bruce helplessly, but his feet seemed to move of their own accord. Slade smiled as Dick drew level with him, reaching up to stroke his thumb over Dick’s bottom lip.

“Good boy,” he purred, and Dick flushed. He glanced back at his family, embarrassment heating his cheeks. Bruce had a harsh grip on Jason’s shoulder, as if holding him back, but they both wore matching scowls.

Slade’s hand fell to the small of Dick’s back, urging him onwards towards the carriage. It was simpler than Dick had expected, and small. Dick eyed the inside dubiously. It was going to be an uncomfortable journey.

Slade climbed in before him, and thankfully, didn’t offer Dick any help getting in after him. It was cramped. Slade was a big man, and his bulk took up most of the space. Dick ended up pressed up against him, trapped between Slade and the door. He turned away as much as he could, watching his family out of the small window instead.

As the carriage pulled away, he took in the image of his family, huddled together on the steps, faces sad. Cass waved, offering a tremulous smile, and Dick lifted his hand in reply, fingers curling weakly.

And then they were gone, and all that remained was Dick and Slade, and the yawning expanse of an uncertain future.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr at [nightwang96](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nightwang96) if you want to check it out!


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